


(Let me take care of you) even if the world ends

by casey_sms (shinygreenwords), shinygreenwords



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinygreenwords/pseuds/casey_sms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinygreenwords/pseuds/shinygreenwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Nothing can prepare you for the moment when you think the world is going to end.</i> Post-apocalyptic!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Let me take care of you) even if the world ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiestome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiestome/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Jesse/Andrew AU Art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6835) by th_esaurus. 



> **Warning:** Some elements of the post-apocalyptic AU have been drawn from ‘The Road’ so there are allusions to groups of crazy people that hunt other people but it’s pretty brief. Non-graphic description of minor injury. I wanted Andrew to not be too badly hurt because I want our heroes to survive okay? Basically end of the world, hurt/comfort with a focus on the comfort.
> 
> Inspired by [](th_esaurusprofile)[**th_esaurus**](th_esaurus) 's excellent fanart [here](http://mark-eduardo.livejournal.com/404778.html). Reposted with permission from the artist.

Nothing can prepare you for the moment when you think the world is going to end, your heart stopping in your chest and the realization that _shit, nothing is ever going to be the same again._

The irony of this is not lost on Jesse of course as this moment happened much after the world supposedly ended.

Andrew had shoved Jesse hard and Jesse lost his balance, hitting the ground hard. “Ow,” Jesse says, checking his palms for gravel rash. He’s lucky he’s wearing a hoodie so his elbows are fine.

“Sorry,” Andrew wheezed, stumbling beside Jesse.

“Did you trip- oh my god, snipers,” Jesse says when he spots the arrow sticking out from the side of Andrew’s left leg. “Oh my god, I don’t- I can’t look at that.” It’s a terrible thing to say but he can feel the panic creeping up on him and he has to look away. He wants to give himself the luxury of panicking but there aren’t any more meds, he had to wean himself off them. He has to get a grip on himself even if he feels like he’s going to throw up all over the place. “Shit,” he hisses as another arrow slices through the air. He doesn’t know how he manages to do it but he throws Andrew’s arm over his shoulder so he can use him as a crutch. He very nearly says _hurry_ but he figures that it’s not exactly helpful. He keeps looking around. He hates the snipers. He really does. He never used to hate, it’s a very strong word, but he hates them. And yes, he is afraid of them for good reason. Once you’re taken, there is no escaping. You’re lucky if you die. They hunt the rest of the survivors. So it’s really not paranoia if people are out to get you and fuck, he does not need this. It’s hard enough to survive with all the limited resources as it is – he will never want to understand why people do this to each other.

They come to a low stone wall at the side of a crumbled building. It’s the best they can do for now. They can’t go far, Jesse doesn’t want to push it while Andrew’s injured and they need more supplies. They are going to have to restock but there is no way Jesse is going back there.

“It’s alright,” Andrew says with remarkable ease although Jesse can tell he’s freaking out too. His voice is tight and he’s breathing heavier. Andrew is bent over awkwardly, his leg propped up, hands braced on either sides of his injury like a protective shield.

“Don’t say you’re alright, that’s what people say when they have accepted that they’re going to die soon,” Jesse snaps. “Sorry,” he apologizes because he doesn’t want it to be the last thing he’ll ever say to Andrew if-

“I’m not about to die, Jess, really,” Andrew says, getting up gingerly.

“And don’t you dare say it’s just a scratch either,” Jesse retorts, looking around. He can’t stop worrying. “Sit,” Jesse tells Andrew because he can tell that Andrew is tired and in pain and he wants to tend to him.

Jesse can’t help worrying about food and medical supplies and infection and gangrene and the lack of doctors. What if there aren’t any supplies anywhere? What if Andrew doesn’t get better? What if this means that they’ve been targeted?

“Stop it, Jess,” Andrew says fondly even though his face is pale. “I can hear you worrying.”

“Of course I’m worrying,” Jesse says. “I’d be crazy if I weren’t worried.” He doesn’t say, _you just got shot with an arrow_ because it’s stating the obvious and the thought still makes him feel queasy. He looks through his backpack for antiseptic and bandages as he focuses on breathing in and out, staving off the panic once again.

While his back is turned, Andrew pulls the arrow out with a grimace and a string of swearwords.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you don’t need to see it and its al- not that bad.”

Jesse feels a flash of guilt about his relief because he really didn’t want to have to do that. He never liked to see blood. It’s different when you know it’s fake blood but real blood - it makes him feel sick. “But,” he protests. _Why did you do that for me?_

Andrew is poking at his leg before putting pressure on it with a strip of old t-shirt, flashing Jesse a grin. “I’m lucky it only glanced me on the side of my leg and the barb of the arrow got caught in my jeans. It wasn’t actually like, fully stuck in me. It was worse than it looked. Trust me.” He peeks at the wound. “The bleeding has almost stopped.”

“What were you thinking?” Jesse mutters as he shakes his head. He drops to his knees in front of Andrew, bare knees on the prickly grass that’s struggling to grow in the cracks of the ground. Tenderly, he moves Andrew’s hand away and forces himself to look at the wound. Andrew deserves this much. Andrew deserves better-

“I was thinking of you,” Andrew says, brown eyes shining with sincerity. “Hey, look at me.” Andrew’s fingers touch Jesse’s chin gently and lifts it up so he can look into his lover’s eyes. “I have to take care of you, I promised.”

That promise was uttered in a world of cameras and glamor, not a fallen place with danger and pain and uncertainty.

Jesse laughs a little because it’s that or he can feel the stinging in his eyes and he’s worried if he starts then he won’t be able to stop. And that if he stops, he won’t want to go on because it’s too hard. “That promise was a world ago. I wouldn’t hold you to it.”

“It’s still this world,” Andrew insists. “I’ll always want to take care of you, okay?”

Jesse nods because his throat has gone tight and he can smell salt. He puts his hand on Andrew’s right knee instead and squeezes it.

“You’ll still love me if I’m like Dr House right?” Andrew says with a smile.

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “He’s a silver fox, I’d do him yeah.” Then more seriously, “Let me take care of you,” he says in a low voice.

Andrew puts his hand on Jesse’s cheek and brushes his curls away from his face, kissing his forehead before saying, “okay, Jess.”

And maybe Jesse is nervous and his hands are shaking. And maybe his voice is high and tight when he has the bottle of disinfectant in his hands and tries to joke, “nut up or shut up”. And maybe Jesse insists on Andrew taking some painkillers and not moving unless they absolutely have to. And maybe when Andrew is resting, exhausted by the day’s ordeal, Jesse finally unwinds and he lets himself have one quiet cry.

But he takes comfort in the fact that Andrew is here, Andrew is next to him, breathing – his world has not ended yet. And that is enough to keep him going.


End file.
